Picture Perfect
by candified.smile
Summary: Memories are just pretty images from the past. They inspire no effect whatsoever on the present. Or do they? Can the best way of coping with the regretful past be to conquer the present?
1. Chapter 1

The song is **Close, **by** Westlife**. I don't own it! Hope you enjoy the story!

* * *

_**Across the miles **_  
_** It's funny to me**_  
_** How far you are but now**_  
_** Near you seem to be**_  
_** I could talk all night**_  
_** Just to hear you breathe**_  
_** I could spend my life**_  
_** Just living this dream**_  
_** You're all I'll ever need**_

_** You give me strength**_  
_** You give me hope**_  
_** You give me someone to love someone to hold**_  
_** When I'm in your arms**_  
_** I need you to know**_  
_** I've never been**_  
_** I've never been this close**_

* * *

He reached up and touched a single spot on his neck, where his jugular throbbed slow and steady. His fingers frequented this area often, be it consciously or subconsciously to the red-haired boy.

His memory returned him to a scene in the past, when a girl with laughing eyes and a warm smile had playfully written her name in ballpoint pen on that very spot. The ink had long since faded, but he still recalled the moment easily, the featherlight touch of the pen dancing across his skin, and the giggles that escaped her lips as she drew tiny circles for the twin i's in her name.

Koushiro had been unable to stop her. Engrossed in his research, he hadn't realised her mischief until she was already finished. It was then that she loped her slim arms around his neck and held him close. As always, Koushiro kept still. It wasn't that he disliked her embrace. It wasn't that at all. He liked it. He loved it. But most of all, he knew he loved her.

Why then? Why did he resist her embrace? He couldn't be sure of the answer himself. Koushiro had never been so close to anyone before. He closed his eyes. Unbidden, the flush of memories rushed back.

_"Koushiro! Let's go playyyy!" she pouted. Her irresistible pout 'persuaded' most people, and usually Koushiro wasn't one to refuse. But currently, his weakness took a backseat to the important discussion flashing on his screen regarding the effects of a new software on the Digital World programmes. Without a conclusive end to the discussion, Koushiro was reluctant to leave his beloved computer. When he waved her off dismissively, she rolled her eyes in the I-knew-this-was-coming manner that she did so often. She coaxed him gently, tugging first at his sleeve, then his arm. When he didn't bulge, she dropped the gentleness that hid her steely will and forcibly pulled him out of his seat. _

The present day Koushiro smiled. It wasn't everyday that a slender girl like her could manage the strength of an ox. He should've been annoyed, but he knew it was for his own good. She was simply worried for him. She was always nagging at him to get off the computer, pushing arguments like "It's straining your eyes!", "Your stomach has been rumbling for the last half an hour!" and his personal favourite, where she'd cross her arms over her chest and sigh; "Five hours at one go is quite enough, Koushiro." He leaned back in his computer chair, his growing smile touching his eyes as the warm everyday memories tugged at his heart.

_"Smile!" Before Koushiro could even register her words, she'd pulled his face close to hers and snapped the picture with her cell phone. With her arm outstretched, she proceeded to snap even more photos of the two of them while Koushiro sat befuddled in his seat. The bright flash went off several times, leaving him dazed and seeing scattered lights of his own about the empty classroom. Finally, just before she announced the end of the impromptu photo shoot, Koushiro managed a small, hesitant smile. _

_She'd immediately set that photo of the two of them as the wallpaper on her phone. When she urged him to do the same, Koushiro had flatly refused. She'd been upset for a bit, but had eventually given in. She knew he wasn't one to flaunt their relationship. She had sent him the photo anyway, hoping he'd eventually come through. _

She had understood his refusal to place their relationship out for the edification of the public, but what she didn't know was that he'd set it as the wallpaper on his laptop. There were several pluses to that. To him, it was more private than his phone. Truth be told, he spent more time on his computer, and it was infinitely more precious to him than his cell phone.

Koushiro reached to the flickering monitor in front of him, his fingers brushing lightly against the warm screen. The same brown hair, the same hazel eyes, yet something so distinctly different. She wasn't any thinner than in the previous photoshoot (honestly Koushiro couldn't imagine where else she would find any more to shed) but her eyes seemed more hollow somehow. The silvery-bronze eyeshadow put a false twinkle to her eyes, but if one looked closely enough, one would notice the bags under her eyes that makeup couldn't disguise fully.

Her latest photoshoot was an advertisement for some beach resort somewhere. She was clad lightly in an electric blue bikini that set off her fair skin and soft brown eyes. She was stunningly beautiful, but Koushiro felt the sinking jealousy brewing in the pit of his stomach that meant he was far from being over her. He hated that the photos would be everywhere; that that was their purpose in the first place – to flaunt not the beach in the backdrop, but her every curve. He hated the advertisers for that, and he hated her agency. He even hated society for their degrading view of women. But most of all, he hated that she wasn't by his side, where he could shield her from their prying eyes.

He felt like some crazed stalker-fan. Only she could invoke such feelings in the normally-stoic Izumi Koushiro.

Her sweet, warm smile, so very familiar, was but a distant memory.

_"Um... I'd like some flowers please. For a seventeen year old girl." "For Valentine's Day," he added lamely. The upcoming occasion had sent most of his class into a flurry of activity and excitement. Though Koushiro himself would usually count himself out of the 'festivities', it was their first Valentine's Day as a couple. Koushiro thought it was a good opportunity to simply do something for her, since she's always been the giving one in their relationship. Plus, he reasoned, it was sort of a special occasion; it was a good excuse to leave some of the shyness behind._

_"First time, dear?" The old lady behind the counter smiled kindly. _

_"Huh?" Koushiro startled. How did she know? The old lady nodded knowingly, and said, "I see a lot of youngsters like you in my shop. A lot of them get nervous like you and they're uncertain enough that they don't even know what kind of flowers they want to get for their beau._

_"But don't worry, dear. Would you like some help?" She continued gently. When Koushiro nodded, the old lady got up creakily from a chair behind the counter and moved towards a chart on the far side of the wall. Koushiro felt a twinge when he saw how much effort it took for her to take the few steps; he almost stopped her, wanting to get her back into her comfortable chair. She saw his concern and smiled reassuringly, the wrinkles at the edges of her eyes crinkling. She gestured to him to join her._

_As he came closer to the chart, he realised that it was full of flower names, both familiar and foreign, and was listed next to a list of human characteristics. _

_"I made this list myself," said the old lady in her warm wrinkled voice. "I felt that the lists out there weren't adequate. They're mostly about the giver's intention you know. I thought to myself, 'Shouldn't gifts be about the receiver?'"_

_Koushiro nodded. He'd cowled through list after list of webpages, even dropping by the library in an attempt to find what he wanted just before he found the shop, but could not find exactly what he wanted. _

_He wanted to find something most suited to her, and her alone. _

_"So tell me about your special lady; is she... Especially partial to any colour or does she have a favourite flower?" _

_"Pink," said Koushiro, almost automatically. No surprise there; she hardly kept that fact a secret. Koushiro smiled, thinking of how the colour took up permanent residence somewhere on her, be it her clothes or in her hair. The florist caught his smile, and returned it with another knowing one of her own. _

_He peered down the list. Roses, in anyone's book, would stand for love and romance. The old lady's was no exception. It was an age-old definition. _

_"Now I know what you're thinking. Love isn't really a clear-cut virtue on the receiver's part. But it is, in a way, at least to me. A person with love in her heart is wholly different from one without, wouldn't you say?" _

_Koushiro nodded again. He was starting to enjoy the company of the sweet little old lady whose sentiments matched his almost exactly, and as a bonus, was gifted with knowledge of putting it to action through the medium he had decided upon. _

_Flowers had always been the obvious choice. Mimi was a hopeless romantic, and flowers were almost synonymous with romantic love. He'd pushed his brain through various different mediums in a bid to be creative, but each had sounded more ridiculous than the next. _

_So he'd crumpled up the paper with the results of an afternoon of brainstorming into an useless ball and lobbed it into the wastepaper basket, and set off for a flower shop; an idea that had sounded so cliche it hadn't even made it into the now-disposed-of list._

_He studied the chart on the wall, eyes wandering past the impressive variety of roses until it fell on the word 'purity'. He stopped. Purity of heart, the pure intentions with which she treated her friends and sometimes even strangers, was the embodiment of her Crest. The flower that the old lady had penned in to match the virtue was the white lily. _

_White lilies, white lilies. What did they even look like? Koushiro decided that his best bet would be to ask the old lady, since he was in a position of complete cluelessness. "Would you happen to have white lilies in stock ma'am? May I have a look please?" He said, a little hesitantly. _

_She gestured to a bunch of pristine white blossoms, their ends soaking in water. Their petals struck out proudly, making them look strong and independent. But something about them gave off a delicate, yet elegant air. _

_They fit perfectly. _

_With the old lady's direction, he managed to pick out a few other varieties of flowers to match the lilies and pull the whole ensemble together into a meaningful bouquet. Not forgetting Mimi's passion for pink, the old lady found some tiny pink rosebuds to circle the white lilies, and added a few purple-blue flowers she called viscaria. She didn't let him pay for those. She simply gave him a secret smile and pushed him out of the shop without allowing him to check its meaning._

_Some research later, Koushiro found out that the viscaria stood for young love. _

He opened a drawer and pulled out a square box. From its assorted contents, he took out a pink leather-bound notebook. She'd forgotten it one rainy afternoon and he hadn't quite had the chance to return it.

He flipped it open to page one, where her name was written in florid script across the very center of the page. From there, her penmanship went downhill. He laughed softly at the pages of scrawled algebraic equations and various lists of homework, and he'd leafed through it enough to know that there was even a shopping list in there somewhere. Milk, green tea, maple syrup, eggs... He felt warm and buzzing just to be let in on these small intimacies of her life.

The pages were vaguely scented, imbued with fragrance from something else it had been kept with. Reaching into the square box again, he pulled out a tiny drawstring bag, easily identifiable as the culprit. He inhaled deeply, and let it fill him with the faint leftover scent of dried white lilies, roses, and viscaria.

She'd split the bouquet he'd given her when they dried, placing them into two small homesewn drawstring pouches. It became a kind of token between them, Koushiro thought, feeling slightly sheepish at his old-fashioned thought.

The notebook had fallen open to a page where a single crisp, brown leaf lay protected in a small ziplocked bag. It was Koushiro's only modification to the notebook.

His fingertips brushed the leaf very lightly, yet the memory of their first kiss sprang to mind with electric heat.

He remembered. He hadn't been feeling well that day. His head pounded and his eyes were glassy. He felt like he had trudged through the full school day through a hazy veil.

_A single autumn leaf from an overhanging tree swayed gently through the chilling breeze and caught in her caramel curls. He'd stopped in his tracks just watching the leaf fall. To his feverish mind, it was more than worthy of his undivided attention. He watched its graceful dance until it tangled into her hair. Pretty, silky hair in a simple, natural brown, waving gently down her back. The jealous wind only managed to tease it into windblown mass that was more attractive than ever._

_He longed to touch it, to feel if it was as soft as it looked. For once, Koushiro ignored Mimi's concerned eyes and questions and reached out to twine his fingers in the long strands. Absently, he noted that she'd stopped talking, and was standing stock-still and staring at him with eyes wide open. _

_ He trailed his fingers through the strands, until it ended at the small of her back. He rested his hand there, feeling her warmth seep into his cold hand. _

_ Even through the fog in his head, he became acutely aware of how much he wanted to kiss her. _

_So he did._

_Jumping in on an unknown impulse, he leaned in. In the moment that his fever-burnt lips met her cool ones, his hand on her back instinctively inched inward to hold her closer. After her initial surprise melted away, she leaned into him on her own accord. Somehow, moving in perfect synchronization, they deepened the kiss. _

_Koushiro smiled ruefully, tracing the delicate veins of the leaf. It was strange that it was only when his mind was most bogged down with illness that he felt most liberated. He remembered the moment down to every detail, down to the nagging voice in his head that told him that there was no chance that she'd return his love, that he was ruining their friendship forever._

_The voice of reason. _

_When she kissed him back, it was like a miracle. The voice of reason was so rarely wrong. Her arms slipped around his neck, and he tightened his hold around her waist in response. It was exhilarating; the sensation of falling into her warmth. Falling forever, but he didn't mind. _

The hole she'd left in his chest had projected itself into his life. He saw her stark absence everywhere now.

At his doorstep, looking fresh and sweet, waiting for him to go to school together. Gone.

At the corner cafe, where he'd tried the lemon sponge at her recommendation but had found it much too sweet for his liking. Under her hopeful gaze, he'd done his best to finish the cake without a single grimace. But she wasn't there.

At her house, flour on her nose, waiting for him to try the cake she'd made specially for him. Her flushed cheeks and red fingers told of endless hours of practice and experimentation with the hot oven. The finished product? A perfectly balanced, definitely not-too-sweet, lemon sponge. She'd noticed. The moment dissolved like spun sugar.

At the library, where they had spent countless summer hours rushing through their holiday assignments. Yes, both of them. Contrary to popular belief, Koushiro wasn't any more inclined to homework than the average kid. Sure, he had a thirst for knowledge, but the domains he was interested in were beyond what school had to offer. Schoolwork-wise, where he would normally have consulted Google, he found that she was just as dependable, if not more so. There was no sight of her now.

At the school computer lab, where she would go to look for him whenever he disappeared without a word. She didn't come to find him.

The ink might have faded, but the memories remained forever imprinted on his heart.

Only then, did Koushiro realise that his face was wet with tears.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! This chapter, and in fact the whole story was inspired by **_Lucky, _**by **_Britney Spears_**. Hey, it's a good song, don't judge me. Yes KnightAngel765, I'm talking to you. Thanks again for the awesome proofreading! (: And thank you to NegaiKoumi for the review! Hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Review if you can! (:

* * *

**_Early morning, she wakes up  
Knock, knock, knock on the door  
It's time for makeup, perfect smile  
It's you they're all waiting for  
They go…  
"Isn't she lovely, this Hollywood girl?"_**

* * *

Mimi awoke with a start. After the initial shock wore off, she groaned and fell back into the warm pillows. Her head throbbed. The insistent knocking on the door felt like it was drilling its way through her skull. Her nightmarish night had taken its toll. She knew from countless similar mornings that the headache wouldn't go away at least until noon.

By then, it would be a different nightmare altogether. Everyday, her face would be slathered with makeup and her hair with styling products. Mimi hated the sticky feel of heavy makeup on her skin, but her manager insisted that it was necessary. _"Once the lights hit, it'll look just right," she exclaimed. "I promise!" _

More often than not, the makeup was completely overdone. Everyone looked at her like they thought she was crazy when Mimi had suggested that she do her makeup herself. Her manager awkwardly laughed off the appalled expressions on the _professionals'_ faces and discreetly removed the bronzer brush from Mimi's reluctant hand. Since then, she'd only ever met one makeup artist who had managed to keep her makeup light yet sufficient, letting her keep the day-to-day look that Mimi favoured.

Well. Day-to-day look of the three-year-ago Mimi, that was, before the glamour and stardom of her new life.

She turned on the television set in her hotel suite. Watching herself on television always gave Mimi a sense of déjà vu. She knew it happened. She knew it was real. She had been there, for heaven's sake. But she felt a sense of disconnectedness all the same. The adrenaline rush that accompanied every photoshoot and showcase always left her drained and disorientated after. She would always be exhausted, but there would be a sense of unaccomplishment, like in spite of her efforts, she hadn't really achieved anything.

_It was so vastly different from when, she would go home smiling, eat her dinner happily, and grin even in her dreams simply because she'd managed to get him to smile that day._

The girl on the plasma screen was smiling, accepting the interviewer's questions with easy grace and eloquence. It was a facade. She recognized the involuntary twitch of a vein in her temple, the minuscule tightening of her smiling lips and the slightest edge to her voice. Things she hasn't noticed herself, but he had.

_"Um... No, I don't have a boyfriend," Mimi said, blushing slightly but enjoying the admiration of the two older boys who had stopped her after class. "Pretty girl like you? No way," cooed one of the boys._

_Koushiro was beside her, being in the same class, but he had no visible reaction. He continued to furrow his brow at the laptop he kept balanced on his arm, the slow tap-tap of the keys occasionally escalating then decelerating again. _

_It was oddly soothing. _

_The two boys were saying something. Mimi snapped herself out of her thoughts and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, what was that?"_

_Their attention was flattering and amusing for a while, but soon turned dry and tasteless. Thinking that she was interested, their initial polite tone had morphed into something more suggestive and uncomfortable. _

_Just as she began to think of a polite way to leave, Koushiro stepped in. "Mimi," he said suddenly, casually tucking his laptop into his backpack, "Don't we have another class after this?" _

_No they didn't, and Mimi was about to say just that when he looked up. His eyes met hers, and she saw amusement cross his face. A quick flash of secret conspiracy in his eyes that she rarely, if ever, saw. _

_It soothed out the serious creases in his forehead and relaxed his face to the carefreeness of the fifteen year old youth that he was. Mimi felt a jolt, and she decided instantly that she liked the look on him, even if it only lasted a brief moment. She returned it with an inconspicuous nod and a knowing smile. _

_"Um, yeah," she said, turning back to face the senior boys. She hoped they wouldn't notice her hesitation. "Our teacher will kill us if we don't get there soon."_

_One of them rolled his eyes. "That sounds awfully convenient doesn't it?" He said with a lazy drawl, leaning his weight into the metal lockers beside him. He was completely unfazed. The other boy agreed, and said, "We're not idiots. The bell for the end-" he emphasized 'the end', spitting it out like it left a bad taste in his mouth,"- of the last class just rang like ten minutes ago." _

_Mimi blinked in surprise. Before she could respond, Koushiro cut in. His voice was calm and even. "Actually, it's an extra remedial lesson with our math teacher. She's," he said, nodding toward Mimi, "terrible at the subject."_

_Mimi held her tongue. She didn't want to ruin their escape plan, but she... she wasn't terrible at math was she? She'd always thought of her grade as 'average'. Sure, it wasn't straight As, as Koushiro's were, but Bs and Cs were still easy passes right? Math came much easier to Koushiro, who made use of it often in his computer codings and programmes. She settled for a death glare in his direction. If looks could kill... _

Mimi couldn't help but smile. It was amazing how her mind wandered even during a situation like that. Of course, looking back now, most anything was foolish and immature. Especially her decision to leave him.

_The boys were unconvinced. "Which teacher? Tell us, we'll walk you there. I wanna see this philanthropic teacher for myself."_

_Mimi blanched. She hadn't counted on their reaction and she had no solution of their predicament. Silently, Koushiro very deliberately tapped the side of his wrist to hers twice. Mimi nearly bolted in surprise. It was their code for reassurance. It meant something along the lines of 'Don't worry'. Mimi hadn't realized that he had even been listening when she stubbornly insisted on the necessity of the code to their Digi-adventures circle. _

_He didn't show much further emotion. He merely tugged the straps of his backpack to rest more snugly on his shoulders and said casually, "Okay. Let's go then."_

_ They shuffled along the corridors, the mismatched four, with Koushiro and Mimi leading the way. Well... Koushiro was leading the way. Mimi had no idea where they were headed. Her heart was thudding fast. She hoped he knew what he was doing. If his slight frame and her own small wrists were anything to go by, she knew there was no way that they'd win if a fight broke out. _

_Unless of course, it was a fight involving digimon. In which case, the two boys wouldn't have the ghost of a chance at beating them. But these two boys definitely weren't partnered. The chosen children had an uncanny knack for guessing if a person was partnered with a digimon or not. Mimi couldn't explain it. It was one of those instinctual things. _

_Plus_, added those uncanny, yet childish instincts, _they weren't very nice._

_They found themselves in front of the computer lab. _

_"Is this your idea of a joke?" Mimi had to agree with Senior Boy #2. What was Koushiro playing at?_

_Koushiro said nothing, but simply knocked twice on the door before gently sliding it open. Cool air fanned out and caressed Mimi's anxiety-warmed cheeks. _

_Rows of students sat in front of flickering monitors. Most sat poker-faced, but Mimi noticed that their relaxed forms hid a fierce concentration in their eyes. Kind of like how Koushiro's when he was tied to his computer. He'd totally fit in here. _

_A tall man, obviously a teacher, stopped short in his patrol of the computer lab. He moved to stand squarely in the doorway. His imposing figure was further accentuated by his stern, lined face. "Yes?" He asked in a loud, booming voice, peering down at the four teenagers in front of him. Mimi felt a tremble go through her body, echoing down to her knees. They were doomed. She turned to Koushiro, and to her surprise, he was smiling. With a seemingly effortless calm, he said, "Good afternoon sir. We're here for our Math remedial session." _

_A long moment passed as the teacher widen his eyes a little in recognition, as though just only noticing Koushiro. Koushiro prompted again, "Remember sir? You agreed yesterday to tutoring us as long as we kept quiet enough during your computer club session?" The last words came out in a jumbled whoosh of breath. Mimi saw the teacher's face hold clear for a while, before his forehead furrowed and he seemed to be in deep thought. Her heart gave a nervous stutter. Okay, now, they were seriously doomed, she thought. _

_Again, two light taps against the side of her wrist. She looked at Koushiro, who appeared not to have moved at all, and his serene smile still held steady, gaze still fixed on the teacher's._

_Two more taps. But Mimi had seen the bead of nervous sweat at his temple, and felt the slightest of trembles when his hand touched hers. She knew he wasn't as sure as he looked. _

_The booming voice rang out again. Mimi held her breath. _

_"My apologies. I've almost forgotten about it." Mimi looked up, surprise caught in her throat. A sudden breath of stunned relief broke the tense atmosphere._

_"Well, come in then. We haven't got all day," the teacher continued. He took a closer look at the unlikely squad. When he spoke again, it was addressed to the senior boys. "Do you boys need math lessons in elementary math as well?" _

_"Uh... No. No... Sir," stammered the two boys. The teacher's formidable presence had affected them as well. They turned and ran. Mimi watched in amazement at their fast-retreating backs._

_"Thank you, sir." _

_"No problem. Anything for the best in my team," the teacher said. "Although," he continued. "Please give me some warning if you need help of this nature again. I almost gave the game away!" He smiled, and Mimi realised that his lined face was a result of a lifetime of smiling rather than scowling, as Mimi originally thought. She was still confused though. Crisis averted, they could breathe more easily, but it didn't make the situation any easier to comprehend._

It turns out, the teacher was in charge of the computer club, and seeing as how Koushiro was an honorary member, and by far the most talented, he easily favoured him. For some reason that had always been unfanthomable to Mimi, Koushiro refused to officially join the club, choosing only to participate in competitions (and the occasional troubleshooting).

More than once, Mimi had tried to guess at the reason. Dare she hope that it was because he wanted to spend more time with her? She knew it wasn't just unlikely; it was completely impossible... Was it? There had been one occasion in the past that had hinted at it, but that was just once. He'd always said that he didn't want to commit to any one post curriculum activity, but Mimi had never seen anyone more passionate about what they considered "a chore" before.

Mimi saw a different side to him that day. One that she'd decided that she liked. Cool and analytical, he'd surveyed the situation and been able to come up with a viable solution within minutes. He'd also seen right through her carefully arranged front, sensing her discomfort in an instant. Not many people could do that. Ruefully, she wondered if he could do it even now, when she'd all but perfected her smile.

The television blurred out until it was but white noise in the background. She had mere minutes before her manager would barge in and drag her out for wardrobe and makeup. As usual, Mimi chose to spend the minutes lost in her thoughts and memories. They were her refuge. Her happy place.

Her thoughts were always hopelessly drawn to the time spent with a certain him.

She wondered how he was. She hadn't seen him or even heard from him (apart from the occasional email) for the past three years. She didn't count the emails. They were few and far in between, and she knew they didn't mean much even to their sender. The contents are detached and superficial, and one even sounded like a stoic school report titled "_What I did over the holidays"._ They were mostly drabble to take up space. She wished she could say that she appreciated the effort, but they didn't say much of importance. How he was doing? How had he been? Had he missed her as much as she miss him? Probably not. The letters only proved how much more she treasured their relationship than he did.

She missed him. The real him. She knew he had to still be there, but she couldn't see him anymore. She didn't have the strength to be constantly searching for him.

So, she'd let go. Unsurprisingly, he did nothing to win her back. Angry, upset, and utterly heart-broken, she'd impulsively accepted the modelling job offered by the tiny agency handing out flyers on the streets to potential starlets. Hurt that he didn't even try to salvage their breakup, Mimi decided, with angry tears, that she wanted to, no, needed to, get away from him as soon as possible.

She didn't realise then that he had always paid nothing but the fullest attention to her. He was always completely aware of her and somewhere down the road, she had begun to mistake his shyness for a lack of care. She had forgotten that with his shy and awkward nature, he didn't act on half the things he thought through. That didn't mean that he didn't care. But she'd neglected to take that all into account when she exploded in a burst of self-righteous fury.

She couldn't be blamed. Not fully. It was difficult to feel like the only one giving.

She got her wish. Her bags were packed and she found herself in America within the fortnight.

She rose to fame quickly. With her natural affinity for language, coupled with the way she threw herself into studying with abandon, led her to become an effective communicator between her Japanese heritage and adoptive American route. She managed both seamlessly, and the agency found plenty of opportunities for her to shine. The tiny, but efficient agency gained fame and recognition from her work. It took on more artistes, most of them fans of Mimi's great rise to fame. That being said, the agency was in itself well-managed, grew to dizzying proportions.

The television was still buzzing with the variety programme. Mimi sighed, and rose to push the 'off' switch. As her face hovered right near the screen, she had a disconcerting vision of herself trapped in a black iron cage. As she pulled back in shock, she saw the bright figure of Tachikawa Mimi within the black edged television screen and realized, with a horrible pang that made her sick to her stomach, it was her reality now.

Nineteen-year-old Mimi was a model, spokesperson, singer, actress and internationally-renowned celebrity. She had never been more accomplished. She had also never felt this alone, this deserted, or this empty.

Mimi did the one thing she knew how to do. Holding on to her past, in all its shades of ecstatic and sorrow, she curled her body into a tight ball and wept for what she had once had, but callously thrown away.

**_She's so lucky, she's a star  
But she cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart, thinking  
"If there's nothing missing in my life  
Then why do these tears come at night"_**


End file.
